Boulevard of Broken Dreams
by Angeling
Summary: POV of Tezuka, Fuji and Ryoma to Green Day's song. Reflections on their past now that they are grown men. Written within the context before the Nationals arc.


Boulevard of Broken Dreams

--

I walk a lonely road

The only one that I have ever known

Don't know where it goes

But it's home to me and I walk alone

--

No one would say that Tezuka Kunimitsu was an easy person to get close to. With his face constantly a stoic mask, it was difficult to anticipate his thoughts. As a result, everyone simply chose to label him 'Tezuka Kunimitsu – Seigaku's Buchou' and left it as that. There was simply not much known about him to associate him with anything other than tennis. They only saw the tip of the iceberg.

_Tennis was his life, his identity._

He was tired of that. While he was not one to belittle himself, he knew that there would always be someone more talented and more determined to win in the tennis circuit – that was not modesty, it was reality. Tezuka recognized the fact in his first encounter with Ryoma. Ryoma had the talent, the skills and the heart. Did he possess the same qualities? Will he be able to break out of this quandary like Ryoma did?

Tezuka rubbed his shoulder absently. His injury had made him even more aware that a life whose sole focus was tennis, to the exclusion of everything else, was only a temporal existence.

_What meaning does his life hold after tennis? Was it too late to try to recover what he had foolishly abandoned?_

People around him were convinced that Tezuka is a man of great inner strength and discipline with a confidence reminiscent of another captain he used to know – though he could never match the other in flamboyancy. His aura of self-assuredness and an attitude that brooked no compromises left everyone in awe of him.

Few people had managed to scale the walls he had built around him. Most that had tried were left battered and bruised. In the end, it was his silence that had defeated them all. It had become his second nature to keep everything to himself - his hopes, his fears – that was the Tezuka-buchou that everyone knew.

The bespectacled boy had always said to play the game without regrets. Now, the man in him was urging him to live out the rest of his life without regrets too.

_There are few opponents that can make Tezuka play all out._

Ah, the truth behind those words. He could never understand how the smiling prodigy could see through him so easily with those eyes that appeared perpetually shut. If he wore a mask that pushed people away, Fuji was exactly the opposite. But that was the only difference. Behind the fair-headed boy's genteel mannerisms, there was also an invisible wall that kept people from understanding him completely.

_Both of them were unconsciously protecting themselves. But what, or who, were they protecting themselves from?_

--

I walk this empty street

On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

Where the city sleeps

And I'm the only one and I walk alone

--

Fuji was the perfect example of talent without the drive. From a young age, he had come to the conclusion that Fate had simply been feeling benign the day he was born and had decided to bestow the title of prodigy upon him just for the fun of it (along with an unhealthy dose of an evil sense of humour and an acquired taste for inedible food). But Fuji had never treated his game seriously. Tennis to the fine-boned boy was only a sport; an ordinary game played with racquets and small fuzzy yellow balls.

Until _that_ day, he had been content to just play the game and let everyone else place judgement on his skill and talent.

The 'tennis tensai' was never deliberately unappreciative of his gift. It was that tennis had never inspired that overwhelming passion that he saw in Tezuka and Ryoma. To him, his genius was over-rated. Everyone was endowed with something unique at birth like Socrates' philosophy and Da Vinci's art – his gift, by luck of the draw, had manifested into an aptitude in a ball game.

_Was tennis his gift or his curse? Sometimes it felt like God's biggest joke._

Perhaps as it was with all talented people, excelling in something made everyone want to crowd around you; to bask in your glory. But at the end of the day, were they around you for what you are or simply for you? Tennis had made him lonelier than ever – it had pushed Yuuta away and made him doubt the motives of those around him. For that reason, Fuji had chosen to play down his capability and never showed his all.

Was that wrong? It was merely human nature that his opponents had considered him too proud to play seriously with them.

He had not expected that there would be someone else besides Yuuta who would stir up this protective instinct in him. Tezuka never seemed to have the problem of protecting himself. No, the Seigaku's buchou would not allow anyone to see his weakness. Insecurity would never be an option for the former pillar of the school. His innate sense of responsibility did not permit him to let down those who had placed their faith in him. That was the characteristics of a natural leader. But sooner or later, the pressure would break him down itself. Hyotei's match had realized the prophecy sooner than expected.

_Saa… Ryoma, I guess that it's up to you to set the tennis world on fire ne?_

Fuji envied Ryoma's imprudence and spunk. Maybe it was the by-product of youth mixed with his upbringing. Their Ochibi, as he was affectionately called by Kikumaru, was never afraid and always chose to bash through a wall rather than beat round the bush. Unlike Tezuka and himself, Ryoma's utter belief in his abilities left him at ease with himself. In fact, the audacity with which he challenged his senpai tachi to push himself further in the game was something only Ryoma would do.

Fuji smiled at the thought of his insolent kouhai who, by now, is undoubtedly making the world sit up and take note of him. It was a pity that they never had the chance to finish their game. That match in the rain had nearly broken down his defenses – he had very nearly allowed himself to be provoked into treating tennis as more than a game.

Ryoma always knew how to push the buttons of his opponents and making them exceed their limit and his own as well. It was a funny thing that the same could be said of another, who had made him play all out. His last attempt to show Fuji the possibilities of a world that till then was beyond his reach was not rivalry, not a match of strength but rather his way of showing that he cared.

_You have taught the both of us but have you learnt anything yourself?_

--

My shadow's the only one that walks beside me

My shallow heart's the only thing that's beating

Sometimes I wish someone out there will find me

'Til then I walk alone

--

_Skill without the determination would not result in anything._

Ryoma smirked at the words once spoken by Ryuzaki sensei. Tenacity was a trait he had developed in the course of playing against his opponents. At his full height, he was still much smaller than most professional tennis players. To make up for this deficit, he had learnt to maximize his mental capacity. That was something he knew Kaidoh senpai and Inui senpai would understand. Physical strength or plain dependency on skill was never enough. That's what made tennis interesting. The outcome of each game was unpredictable and never determined by superficial things such as appearances or past credentials. History is always made by an event in the present.

In the end, he was glad that his baka obaji had pushed him into enrolling into Seishungakuen. His initial objective of playing the game had been to defeat his father but that had evolved with each game he played. Tennis was many things to him, a tool, a challenge – but it would never become a responsibility like it was to Tezuka buchou but neither would it be a form of amusement like it was to Fuji senpai.

He was not blind to the many upheavals he had caused ever since he had first joined the club. It was not in his nature to cause trouble. It was, however, to be blunt. Despite himself, it was hard to act oblivious in front of both Tezuka and Fuji. While all the upper classmen had influenced him in one way or another in his freshman year at Seigaku, it was his captain and the teasing tensai who had molded him to the man that he was today. Ryoma could not find a way to express it, but he was grateful for having their footprints along his; even if it was only for a brief instant in his long journey to where he is now.

_Pride is a double-edged sword._

Looking back to the point where his path had intersected with the other two men, the boy who had once been termed 'tennis no oujisama' by his fanclub marveled at how he had grown since then. His tennis had once revolved around Nanjiroh, to surpass his obaji had been his goal. Tezuka had taught him to step out of that shadow and to chase his own dreams and to challenge the world as himself – Ryoma Echizen. Fuji had tried to make him realize that there was more to life than tennis and competitions. And that there would always be a sanctuary for him no matter how far he went; as long as he wanted it.

_Tezuka buchou, how are you now?_

Despite his invincibility, he had failed to learn to create a life where love and tennis was not mutually exclusive. His stubbornness would be a burden he had to carry until he was ready to release it and pursue the happiness that he had let slip through his fingers. However, deep in his heart, Ryoma knew that in time, his captain would come to acknowledge the feelings that he had tried to deny for so long. It was an eventuality that did not require insight to figure out. On the other hand, Fuji was… still Fuji.

It had been years since he last contacted either one of the two men, though their presence in his life had been hard to ignore. The tennis circuit had been hectic and merciless, often making him lose track of time and leaving none for himself. But he did not regret his choice. Though one day he might reflect on his decision and conclude differently, for the moment, this is the road that he had chosen to walk down. Alone.

Ryoma tilted his head towards the sky, letting the warm sun shine on his face as he pushed the tip of his trademark cap back slightly. The bright blue sky reminding him of someone's eyes, of a face which had not faded away despite the passing of time.

_Gomen, Senpai._

--

I'm walking down the line

That divides me somewhere in my mind

On the border line

Of the edge and where I walk alone

--


End file.
